Settling Scores
by Payasa
Summary: This sequel to "Love Is..." takes place three years later. Creole is seeking vengeance on everyone who caused him to lose his family and freedom-including the Moran family. Jimmy is now owner of Dorsey's Auto Shop, and is now a loving family man to wife Tika and daughter Isabella. But will Creole try to take from his former friend all the things that he, himself has now lost?
1. Chapter 1

"SETTLING OF SCORES"

A young man, approximately 20 years old, stood by the telephone, anxiously awaiting for it to ring. It had been three years since he had seen his older brother, three years since his brother had been carted off to prison for possession of crack cocaine with intent to distribute. The young man's name was Ricky, and his brother's name was Creole. Ricky had been angry and bitter ever since those events, made worse when it was discovered that Creole's wife Poochie had been the one who had tipped off the police about Creole's 'activities' before packing up their children and leaving town after learning from her friend of what he had done to a young girl. Ricky knew the girl well—her name was Arilyn Moran and her brother's name was Jimmy, Creole's former best friend. The woman who had informed Poochie was Veronica, who was married to another Moran brother—a former Marine corporal named Jey. Finally, the phone ran.

"Bro," Ricky called out, trying to decipher the voice.

"It's me, Ricky."

Ricky looked around the hallway of his college dormitory, ensuring complete privacy. He then returned to his conversation. "Creole…where are you?"

"Don't worry about where I am right now," Creole said. "For right now, I'll contact you so keep your cell phone on." He paused, listening carefully for any sound that indicated that his telephone had been tapped. Satisfied, he continued. "I'm going…to need your help, Ricky."

"Sure, Bro…what's up?"

"Not on the phone," Creole cautioned his younger brother. "Someone's coming up there to pick you up. When they call you from the front desk, you come on down. I'll explain everything to you then."

A black four-door Suburban SUV moved smoothly down the blackened late-night highway. Inside the SUV, Creole and Ricky were in the back seat, discussing what Creole had said on the phone. "I need you to help me out, Little Brother," Creole said.

"What's so important that you couldn't tell me about it on the phone at school?" Ricky wondered.

"I have a bit of unfinished business that need closing out." Creole looked out the window, into the night. "I took her from nothing…from Park Manor. I gave her whatever the hell she wanted…and she let that bitch talk her into rolling me over to the cops." Ricky nodded, knowing that Creole was referring to his wife and Veronica. Creole stroked the neatly-trimmed goatee on his chin, in deep thought. His mind then switched to Jimmy. "I kept that nigga from getting killed in prison, kept him from being a bitch on the inside…like his stepdad tried to turn him into. I taught him damn near everything he knows, and he didn't even call me one time to thank me for getting that hoe Tangie up to the jail to spring him free." He turned to his brother. "People are so unappreciative…it's time for us to settle accounts. Are you in?"

Ricky's bitterness dominated his rationality. "Let's do it." Creole smiled, nodding slightly. He leaned back into the leather seat, pondering. Ricky eyed his brother. "What do we do first?"

Creole's answer was simple. "We close out our first account." Slowly and methodically, he rubbed the wedding ring on his left-ring finger. "No one leaves me…no one."


	2. Chapter 2

"'**TIL DEATH DOTH PART"**

It's early the next morning. Poochie is getting her children ready for school. She cooks breakfast, checks their backpacks for homework and other needed items, then sends them off as the school bus pulls up, then away. As she was cleaning the table, Poochie couldn't keep the memory out of her mind—the memory of Veronica coming to her house and telling her how her husband Creole had raped Airilyn, as well as the girl's attempt to take her own life. She couldn't erase the weakness in her stomach as Veronica sat by her side as she called the police and told them where to find him, as well as where to find his stash. However, she had absolutely refused to testify at his trial because she knew that she would not be safe in the city. Now that she was washing dishes, Poochie's mind reached back to when she made the heartbreaking phone call to Creole to inform him of her decision to leave him. Now Poochie sat at the breakfast table, pondering her next move.—it's been three years now and she needed to decide if she should return home or if it would be safer to just remain here. Her question was answered with a knock on the door. Upon answering it, she stumbled backwards—for standing in the doorway was Ricky. He said nothing, only barging inside by pushing past her. "What the hell you doing here? Get out of here, Ricky!"

"What's the rush? You have company?" Poochie's annoyance at her ex brother-in-law transformed into dread as her ex-husband casually stepped inside the house, calmly and quietly closing the door behind him. "Hello, Baby."

Around the same time, back home, Jimmy was getting ready for work. He had showered and shaved, and was now putting on the uniform of the auto mechanic. Of course, he didn't have to—before Mr. Dorsey had taken ill and died, he had left his business to Jimmy. Jimmy considered it a huge honor to be chosen to carry on with the auto shop. Of course, this new lease on life was difficult: he went to work earlier, came home later, and had more responsibilities. The upkeep, finances, and overall maintenance were for Jimmy to control. It was demanding work, but he loved every bit of it. He zipped up his jumpsuit and headed downstairs.

Tika, his wife, was waiting for him. She was getting ready to go to work in the downtown area where she worked as an account manager for a local marketing firm. The two of them hugged one another, wishing each other a good day. That's when Jimmy felt the incessant tugging on his pants leg. Smiling knowingly, he reached down and picked up a giggling three-year-old girl. A pudgy, bubbly, ball of joy, the child laughed as Jimmy nuzzled her neck and made squishy noises as he played with her afro puffs. "You go bye-bye?"

"Yeah, Izzy…Daddy's goin' bye-bye," Jimmy cooed gently before giving his daughter a kiss on her fat cheek. He then gave Tika a kiss on her lips. "I'll be home about nine, nine-thirty. That new inventory of equipment came in yesterday afternoon and I gotta finish checking them in."

"You want me to hold your dinner in the oven?" Tika asked.

"What we havin'?"

"Meatloaf and scalloped potatoes."

Jimmy put his fist to his mouth, feigning agony over being late for that type of supper. "You know what? I'm gon' try to put a rush on that inventory." They chuckled good-naturedly, then hugged one last time before Jimmy left for work. Isabella climbed down from her mother's arms and looked out the den window at her father's van pulling away. "Bye-bye!" she called out repeatedly before taking off across the room, with Tika hot on her tail. After finally catching and tickling her, Tika finished putting on the toddler's shoes and gave her a stuffed puppy to play with while they waited for the babysitter to come.

"It's been a long time, Shantrese," Creole said, calling Poochie by her given name.

"Too long," Poochie replied. After Creole and Ricky had come inside of Poochie's rental, they had made themselves at home in the small living room. Creole was sitting on the couch, with Ricky standing beside it. "You walked out on my brother," Ricky began, scowling at Poochie. "Creole needed your back the most, and you let him get sent to the pen! Why'd you leave my brother?"

"Why you can't mind your damn business?" Poochie retorted, still keeping an eye on Creole. Ricky was about to put his hands on his former sister-in-law, when Creole grasped his arm. "Go outside…this won't take long," he instructed quietly. Ricky stared at his brother, confused. Creole intensified his gaze, insinuating that Ricky did as he was told. As soon as he was gone, Creole returned his attention to his ex-wife. "You knew when you married me that I wouldn't let you leave me," he said. "Did you really think that I wouldn't find you?"

"At this point, it doesn't really matter," Poochie answered him. "I figured you would find out where I was—sooner or later. Here's what it is, though—I really don't care anymore. You've managed to take everything from me. You took my innocence, you took my youth, you took my self-respect. I put up with your messing around on me ever since Mama made me marry you to 'give my baby a last name'. I knew you and Tangie were still messing around…I knew about all your little dirt. But then you had to go and hurt my best friend's sister-in-law when you knew she was vulnerable—your best friend's kid sister! I should've left you a long time ago, but it ain't easy being on your own with three kids. You got me pregnant when I was 17 and strapped me down to you for five years of my life, then saddled me with all these kids so I couldn't leave." Poochie ran her fingers through her braids and nodded. "I did tell the cops about your club…yeah, I did. I'm glad I did it, too, because that was the only way I knew to get my babies and get the hell out of there while the chance was there." Even as she was talking, she had noticed Creole pulling out a gun and placing it upon his life. "And now, you're going to take my life," she observed, shaking her head. "Nigga, that's all you know how to do—take, take, take."

Creole sat quietly, black anger festering inside of him. He listened to his ex-wife speak in complete silence, before revealing the gun with the silencer on the barrel. Poochie eyed the gun, but was unafraid. She knew this was the end for her, but she felt a peace settle within her. She slid from her chair and knelt onto the floor. "At least you had the decency to not do this in front of our kids."

From outside the house, Ricky waited outside nervously. Waiting on Creole, Ricky was very much eager to get this done so they can leave before anyone recognizes them as strangers and calls the police. Suddenly, he hears the unmistakable sound of the silencer. He trembles slightly, in disbelief. He then hears the sound of shuffling papers and slamming drawers before seeing his brother calmly exit the front door. "Come on," Creole simply ordered. "We're done here." They said nothing as they climbed into the car and drove away.

The brothers drove all the way back into the city in complete silence. Ricky was still incredulous that Creole would shoot Poochie, even though he still hated her for leaving Creole. Now, it was Creole's voice that was interrupting Ricky's troubled thoughts. "You're really with me now, Little Brother."

Ricky looked at Creole. "You did her. You actually shot her."

"Yeah…I did. And now we're going to get everyone else." Creole cut his eyes in Ricky's direction. "It's all or nothing, Ricky. Don't ask questions—you do everything I tell you. If you have a weak stomach for what I'm going to do, tell me now so I can take you back to school and let your ass out. Time to make a choice." Ricky nodded. "You know I'm with you, Bro…I'm down for whatever."

Creole smiled. "Alright, then…time for you to prove yourself. You're taking the next shot. Now, fall back and rest up—we're going to pay someone a visit."

"Who is it?"

"Somebody who had a very 'personal' relationship with my former best friend."

Through the years of their courtship and marriage, Veronica and Jey had had a strong, steady relationship. However, the traumas of wartime—coupled with childhood pains—often have a way with reappearing without warning. Lately, Jey had become cold and distant to his wife. He rarely exhibited his playful, loving nature with her any more. He had now stopped complimenting her figure and her cooking, and he had stopped being intimate with her. Lately, the only things he seemed to want to do was work, watch war movies, and be alone. Veronica would address this change of behavior, only for Jey to wave her away and tell her that he would be OK. But Veronica knew that something was amiss. She never nagged him, but this wedge that had come between them was gnawing on her nerves.

She had finally had enough when Jey started neglecting Isaiah. The boy had always been Jey's pride but now, he didn't spend much time with his son. The sudden change had deeply disturbed the boy, so one night he went to his mother to tell her. "Mama, does Daddy still love me?" he asked sadly.

Veronica had been sleeping soundly when Isaiah had snuggled next to her. When he asked her that question, she awoke immediately and sat up in bed. "What made you ask something like that?"

"Because he don't play with me no more."

Veronica cradled her child. "Well, baby—your daddy has been really busy at the barbershop lately."

"But how come he always be by himself when he be at home?" Isaiah asked. "He don't never be around us no more." It was then that Veronica had made up her mind that she and Bobby needed to talk. As she was getting up, Jey suddenly walked into their bedroom. He stood quietly, facing his wife and son. Veronica stared at him quizzically before asking, "What's up, Babe?"

Jey didn't say anything to her. Instead, he motioned to Isaiah. "Go play outside, Isaiah…I need to talk to your mama." Obediently, the boy scooted away from Veronica and left the room, looking back to see what they were talking about. Jey leaned his head toward the hallway, listening for his son. When he was certain that they were alone, he returned his attention to his wife. "I need to tell you something."

"Yeah, I need to talk to you, too," Veronica started, but Jey took her by the hands. It was then that she knew that whatever she wanted to say would wait. Jey kept a firm grip on her hands. "Sit down, Ronnie," he said gently. Veronica shook her head vigorously. "Naw, I don't wanna sit down. I don't wanna sit." But Jey sat on the bed, pulling Veronica down onto the bed with him. He stared into her nervous eyes, then explained.

"I just got off the phone with your brother…" Veronica began to tremble. "Wha-what's wrong, Jey? Something wrong with somebody in my family?"

Jey shook his head impatiently and continued. "No, Ronnie. Your family is fine," he assured her. "But he called to tell me that y'alls mama went to visit with Poochie's mother a few minutes ago. Ronnie, something happened this morning."

"What? Tell me what happened, Jey!"

"The police found her this morning…they found her on the living room floor…" He did not get a chance to finish before Veronica put her hands to her face and sobbed. Absently, he hugged his wife to him and stroked her back. "Jimmy and me are going over there," he said. "Poochie's mama is out of herself right now…and she got them kids over there, too. She's gonna need help with them."

Veronica shook in Jey's arms. "It was Creole…he killed her. He found her and he killed her!"

"We don't know that, Ronnie."

"It was him! It was him—you know it was!" She then wrenched from Jey's grip and ran from the room. Jey, weariness showing on his face, sighed deeply and prepared to go to Poochie's mother to give his condolences.


End file.
